The Rolls Royce Phantom idled at the curb of Studio 4, looking less like a car and more like a land shark waiting for its meal.
Aria stepped out of the studio gates, still wearing her street clothes but carrying the heavy emotional weight of the morning's filming. When she slid into the back seat, the cool, conditioned air hit her like a balm.
Damien was there, as promised. But he wasn't on his laptop this time. He was holding a thick manila folder, his expression grave.
"Hungry?" he asked, though his eyes didn't leave her face.
"Starving," Aria lied. The adrenaline from her confrontation with Bella had faded, leaving a hollow pit in her stomach. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere private," Damien signaled Ken. "The Tea House on 5th."
